


Set Her Free

by persnickety_persnackety



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Day - 7: Free, F/M, Got this idea from Drop Dead Fred!, Imaginary Friends, Jonsa Halloween Event 2020, Minor Harrold Hardyng/Sansa Stark, Modern Westeros, Not Beta Read, arya underfoot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persnickety_persnackety/pseuds/persnickety_persnackety
Summary: It was her eyes that gave her away. She could fool everybody else with that dazzling smile of hers and those charming words that escaped her lips as easy as her breath, but as someone who liked to believe he was something of a Sansa Stark-expert, Jon only had to take one look into those azure pools to know that behind the disguise of a happy façade, the woman was drowning, and no one else seemed to realize that she was silently crying for help.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow & Arya Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 69





	Set Her Free

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Tumblr for the Jonsa Halloween Event. I wrote it in a frenzy, so I'm sure it's riddled with errors. 🙄

It was her eyes that gave her away. She could fool everybody else with that dazzling smile of hers and those charming words that escaped her lips as easy as her breath, but as someone who liked to believe he was something of a Sansa Stark-expert, Jon only had to take one look into those azure pools to know that behind the disguise of a happy façade, the woman was drowning, and no one else seemed to realize that she was silently crying for help.

Jon hadn’t wanted to attend the dinner celebrating Sansa’s engagement to that blond twat, Harry Hardying, but he had been cursed in life to have Robb Stark as his life-long best friend, and the man was rarely ever told ‘no’ so he had a tendency of pushing back whenever he heard it, especially when it came from Jon. Granted, Robb had ignored all the signs of his best friend being in love with his sister for the past decade, so he didn’t understand why Jon would want to avoid attending the engagement dinner of his younger sister to a man he secretly loathed without even having to meet him. He had been particularly relentless in batting Jon’s excuses aside until Jon realized that the chances of him not attending were basically slim to none. The only thing he could cling onto was the hope that his heart had done the opposite of growing fonder in Sansa’s absence.

That hope was dashed the second he walked into Winterfell and saw her for the first time in over twenty-four months. Her back was turned to him, the pale skin bared by the open back of the royal purple dress she was wearing, as she entertained an older couple who were undoubtedly important friends or associates of her parents. Her scarlet tresses had been dyed blonde and had been sheared to her shoulders, but even still, Jon knew it was her. He had little doubt that he would have found her even if every light was put out and they were left in sheer darkness. It was like a part of him was pulled to her no matter where they were, just like it always had done since he was a young boy.

The smart thing to do in that situation would have been to turn right around and walk right back out the door and back to his car where he could drive as far from Winterfell as he could possibly get, but such thoughts were stopped before they could bloom by Robb’s sudden appearance at his side. His best friend was on his way to being three sheets to the wind, and even though every atom in Jon’s body was desperate to both leave and to be as close to Sansa as possible, he soon realized that babysitting Robb was going to be his primary duty throughout the night.

He didn’t even get to really see her until they all sat down for dinner, and he was blessedly, or cursedly – he was torn on how he really felt, seated directly across from her at the table. Over lemon-chicken and rosemary-roasted potatoes, his eyes had met hers for the first time, and he swore that at that moment everything in the universe went still for a heartbeat, though it felt closer to an eternity. She gave him a small smile, a bare twitch of her lips, but Jon was too lost in the dark cerulean seas of her eyes to really notice it because it was in those eyes that he found himself entranced by the dark void he found there that sucked him in, even though his body remained glued to his seat. And it was while he was immersed that he realized just how somber she looked.

His first instinct was to ask if she was all right, to ask why she was so sad, but Sansa’s attention was promptly called away by her fiancé who then made it a point to keep her focus on him throughout the rest of the dinner. The smug bastard had the audacity to shoot Jon a wink when Sansa wasn’t looking, as though he knew how Jon would have given anything to have been in his seat. It took everything in Jon not to chuck his wine glass at the smarmy ass’s head, and even then, it was only realizing that there was a chance that he would get wine on Sansa’s dress that stayed his hand in the end.

It was only after dinner, while he was speaking with Ned about the security firm he was planning on opening in Winter City, that Jon finally noticed that Sansa was finally alone for the first time that evening. He couldn’t even remember what excuse he gave Ned to abruptly end the conversation, but his surrogate father seemed to understand his urgency based on the small, knowing smile he gave Jon before stepping aside to let him get to Sansa. Jon didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, having the father of the woman he loved know of his feelings when he also knew that said daughter was engaged to another man, but as soon as he reached Sansa, such thoughts disappeared from his mind altogether as his primary focus became Sansa, and Sansa alone.

She really did look radiant in that dress that accentuated every line and complimented every curve. The fact that it showcased those never-ending legs of hers was also something he would have loved to admire more had he not been so determined to be a gentleman by keeping his eyes glued to above her neck. Yes, he missed those dark red tresses that his fingers had always itched to run through, but even as a blonde, Sansa was a vision that he would have gladly spent the rest of his life drinking in. But even in the middle of his yearning, the melancholy that emanated from her eyes was too prominent to be ignored, especially when it came from a girl who was supposed to be blissfully in love with a man she was going to marry and spend the rest of her life with.

Jon didn’t even know what he was planning on saying when he approached her. All he knew was that he couldn’t bear to just sit back in silence while watching her schmooze and entertain in the midst of her own silent suffering. A part of him was almost wary about ending her small moment of solace from the madness of the party, but even when she was by herself, that look in her eyes remained. It was like a dark stain that refused to be removed by cheer and laughter, and he couldn’t allow himself to let it go unaddressed.

He nearly forgot what he was preparing to say when he reached her and she looked up to meet his questioning gaze. The wide smile that spread across her pink-glossed lips nearly stole the breath right out from his lungs. It almost made him realize how so many people could fail to see that something was amiss because being the subject of that blinding smile almost made it hard for one to focus on anything else. She was that captivating.

“ _Jon!_ Oh, I can’t believe that the party is nearly over and this is the first time I’m actually talking to you,” she proclaimed with a hint of reprimand in her cheerful tone. “I’m so sad that we didn’t get more time to catch up, but I’m so glad that you came. It wouldn’t feel right celebrating my engagement here in Winterfell without one of the staple presences here in the North being here. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and you look amazing! How are you?”

Even though her line of questioning was fairly standard when it came to conversations and greetings, Sansa’s sincerity was what made it feel so genuine and open. The fact that she looked like she actually cared about his answer was what made it hard for Jon to push down those yearnings that never really went away to focus on his original intent.

He gave a cursory response, forcing himself to keep things light in his summary of his life, but Sansa nodded along with her gaze fixated on him like he was the only person in the universe. Jon would never dare to presume that her interest went anywhere beyond platonic, but just the fact that she took an active interest made his chest both feel warm and ache at the same time. It also pushed him to ensure that everything was okay with her.

“That’s enough about me,” he finally said, choosing that time to turn the conversation back to her. “Tonight, after all, is supposed to be all about you. How are _you_ , Sansa? How’s your life going?”

It was her hesitance before responding that made Jon realize that his feeling of something being off with her was correct. Any other woman, after all, would have been ready to spout off how happy and excited they were to begin their new life with their significant other at their engagement dinner, but in that moment of hesitation, that sad look in her eyes grew stronger.

Of course, being the only daughter of Catelyn Stark, Sansa was back on her game less than a second later, forcing a wide smile on her face as she blathered about Harry and his job, as well as her being knee-deep in wedding planning. Jon couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t seem to have much to say about her own personal life outside of Harry and the wedding, which he found to be a bit disconcerting. Maybe that was why she didn’t seem like her completely bubbly-self.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sansa?” he asked her after she finally finished prattling on about the house that she and Harry were looking into buying back in the Vale.

At his question, the ever-present smile on Sansa’s lips faltered and her eyebrows became screwed up in alarm. Jon almost felt like he had made a grave error in his persistent questioning, but it was the way her eyes suddenly took on a glassy look that forced him to push on.

“I’m happy that you found the perfect guy for you, Sansa,” that was actually a lie, but he didn’t necessarily want her to know that, “but I couldn’t help but notice that you seem a little… dejected? Are you sure that everything’s all right with you?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her blue eyes studying his as though looking for some kind of deception or duplicity in his question, but after a moment, she seemed to be satisfied with what she saw because there was no anger or irritation on her face; in fact, Jon swore he saw a brief flash of relief in her gaze. The look became magnified as she took a step closer to him, closing the small distance between them, with her mouth open, ready to answer him – something that Jon found himself desperate to hear – but before she could say anything, Catelyn’s voice broke through the spell.

“Sansa, there you are!” the Stark matriarch called out, pulling Sansa’s gaze from his, though Jon yearned to bring it back. Catelyn shot Jon a solemn look, something that Jon was used to being on the receiving end of throughout the many years he had come and gone from Winterfell. He could just tell with that one look that she was not pleased to find that he was the reason she had not been able to find her daughter. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Harry is talking to Wyman Manderly and I don’t think that he’s making much headway with him, so you’re needed.”

Sansa nodded, but she turned to Jon with remorse etched on her face. She opened her mouth, most likely to utter some kind of apology, but Jon wasn’t in the mood the hear it.

“You’d better go. I’m actually thinking of heading out now, anyway, so I’m just glad that you and I got the chance to talk and catch up while I could,” he said, forcing his own smile onto his lips in an attempt to make her feel better about leaving him. 

It was clear that Sansa didn’t believe him, but Catelyn had grown impatient and was already pulling Sansa back into the main room where the rest of the guests were gathered together. Just before the two women re-entered the fray, Sansa shot him another look over her shoulder, and Jon, who hadn’t moved a muscle despite his previous statement that he was getting ready to leave, met her glace with a sad smile, even as he watched the hopelessness bleed back into her eyes. 

That would be the last time he saw her as a Stark because, after tonight, she would be heading back to the Vale with Harry, and based on Harry’s reaction to him, Jon highly doubted he would get an invitation to the wedding. This had been his last chance to see her as the woman he loved.

As he stood with his back physically and metaphorically against the wall, Jon couldn’t help but think of how he wished that Sansa had retained some of the fierceness she once had as a child. It was clear that Harry was a choice that Sansa made to appease her mother and her high expectations, something she had been dealing with for years as the only daughter of the legendary Catelyn Stark, but he wasn’t sure that she was truly happy with her choice. Jon just wished that she had some of the rebelliousness she had once had as a girl who once made the ever-proper Catelyn Stark want to pull her hair out. She had been the cause of a lot of problems in Winterfell, but that was the girl that he had fallen in love with, even though he hadn’t even known what the word ‘love’ really meant at the time.

When Sansa was a young girl, she had been like night to her current day as a woman. As much as she tried to be proper for her mother, there had been a mischievous, veering toward dangerous, streak in little Sansa as well. One minute she was drinking tea with her dolls, and the next she was making mud pies on Catelyn Stark’s thousand-dollar marble countertops. One second, she would be picking flowers and making crowns with them, and then the next, she was chopping Waymar Royce’s action figures into pieces with a hatchet as payback for him making fun of Bran for having to walk with braces on his legs. One moment she was an angel, and then suddenly she was doing something that would make anyone think she had been possessed by a demon. It had driven her mother crazy, but to Jon, she had been precious.

It was then that Jon remembered how a lot of the mischief that Sansa got up to throughout her childhood was attributed to her imaginary friend that she had from the moment she could talk. _Arya Underfoot_ was her name, and it was a name that always popped up whenever Catelyn or Ned demanded to know what Sansa had been thinking after she had committed a particularly naughty act.

_“Why would you cut up your mother’s sheets, Sansa?” “Arya Underfoot said that they would make the best snowflakes, Daddy. Don’t you think they look beautiful?”_

_“Why did you write those foul things on the wall, Sansa?” “Arya Underfoot thought that they would cheer Bran up after his surgery, and it did, Mommy! Didn’t you hear him laugh?”_

Jon could remember quite a few things that “ _Arya Underfoot”_ had supposedly persuaded Sansa to do within the walls of Winterfell, but nothing her parents threatened could ever make Sansa exile her friend. Not even her friends’ ridicule for having an imaginary could sway Sansa to give up her invisible companion. Nothing worked.

Up until she was twelve-years-old, Sansa clung to Arya Underfoot like she was a piece of herself, and then on her twelfth birthday, Arya Underfoot just mysteriously disappeared from Sansa’s life. Jon’s memories were a bit fuzzy, but he swore that losing Arya Underfoot came about shortly after Sansa had pulled a prank on Ramsay Bolton at her party that had resulted in Ramsay having his hair completely singed off, which had abruptly ended the party and had left Catelyn Stark positively seething. Her angry yells could be heard everywhere in Winterfell, and nothing Ned said could calm her down. 

Sansa had seemed genuinely sorry to have upset her mother, but she wasn’t repentant when it came to what she had done to Ramsay. All she would say on the matter was that it was better that it was his hair that got burnt off and not the walls of Winterfell. That was all Jon remembered her saying right before she was sentenced to her room for the rest of the night. She wasn’t even allowed to open the presents her guests had given her.

The next time Jon saw Sansa, he noticed a change in her right away. She seemed solemn, withdrawn, and yet she also seemed eager to stay around her mother, like she needed her to fill the void that Arya Underfoot had left. Jon still didn’t know what happened that night to make Sansa give up her imaginary friend, but he couldn’t help but think that if the adult Sansa had Arya Underfoot, she wouldn’t seem so lost in her own skin.

As if that realization sparked to life something in his brain, Jon soon found his feet almost moving of their own accord _away_ from the front door toward the stairs that led to the upstairs rooms of the giant manse. He was a bit confused as to where his feet were taking him until he found himself in front of the door that led to the room that had once belonged to Sansa. Though the guilt of invading her privacy was nearly overpowering, that newly enflamed spark of awareness in his mind propelled him forward through the door that he had been reluctant to open.

The room looked the same as it did the last time that he visited Sansa, which had been shortly after he graduated high school and was preparing to join the Watch. The white walls were still decorated with the posters of the bands she loved in high school, and the bed and furnishings appeared untouched, which made him think that she and Harry were staying in another guest room instead of staying in her room or they were staying in a hotel instead of at Winterfell. That made him feel a little less guilty as he walked further into the room and started looking around for something – something he didn’t even know he was looking for but felt that he needed to find. It was a strange feeling – one that was a bit frightening considering how strong it was in his mind despite him not even knowing where it originated from. All that thought seemed to say was that there was something Sansa needed, and it was somewhere in her old bedroom.

“This is crazy,” he muttered aloud when he found himself opening Sansa’s closet door and took note of the old clothing she had left behind. “What, in all the bleeding hells, am I doing here?”

_Don’t give up, you bleeding idiot. She needs me._

Jon didn’t know where that thought came from, and the foreignness of it made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight on end. The thought definitely didn’t feel like one of his own, which meant that it had to be coming from somewhere else. It was the fact that it seemed to have seen the same thing he did in Sansa that kept him from running out of the room and straight for the front door. If it wanted to help Sansa, it couldn’t possibly be evil… right?

Even though Jon had no idea what he, or _it_ , was looking for, he was almost certain he had found it when his fingers brushed something hard and wooden on the top shelf of Sansa’s closet. A rush of excitement slithered up his spine, though he didn’t even know why he should be excited at all. Deep down, he knew that it wasn’t his excitement he was feeling, but that something _else_ that was inside of him _,_ but he refused to let his mind dwell on such a thought. He focused his attention, instead, on pulling the item down into the light, where he was able to see that the object that he had found was a small square jewelry box, barely the length of his forefinger. The lid was held closed by lots and lots of silver duct tape – a freakish amount if he was being honest with himself. It was only when Jon actually got a good look at the actual jewelry box beneath the tape, that he remembered where he had last seen it: it was in Sansa’s grasp on the day of her twelfth birthday – the one where she had seemingly lost Arya Underfoot.

“Are you in there?” Jon questioned the box as his mind starting piecing together a picture that was forming in his brain, not really caring that he was possibly addressing Sansa’s long-lost imaginary friend, something he had never believed in before. But considering what he had heard inside his head, he wasn’t sure that it was completely out of the realm of probability anymore. “Are you in there, _Arya Underfoot_?”

There was nothing but silence in response to his question, making Jon think that he had imagined everything and he was now invading Sansa’s privacy for no other reason than his own feigned belief that she needed rescuing. He left the room hastily, careful to close the door behind him, but despite his irritable thoughts on why he had allowed himself to go to her room, he found that he still had the taped jewelry box clutched tight in his hand, though he didn’t know why he chose to keep it.

When he descended the steps, he was shocked to find Sansa standing at the foot of the staircase, staring out at something that he couldn’t yet see. It was only when he was a step above her, and his view was no longer obstructed by the banister, that Jon was able to look out and see that she was watching her fiancé mingle amongst a small group of people. The group consisted mostly of women, and all of them seemed to have taken the same path as Robb, imbibing as much drink as possible, because two of the women, whose names Jon didn’t know and didn’t really care to find out, were draping themselves over Harry like coats being flung on a coat rack. The truly infuriating part of it all, however, was the fact that the man seemed to revel in the drunken attention as he openly flirted with the soused females, not seeming to care that he was doing it in front of his own fiancée. Jon didn’t understand how Sansa could just stand back and let it happen.

“Harry’s always been a very… _tactile_ person,” Sansa remarked sullenly, her voice giving little inflection in spite of the implication. Jon was incensed on her behalf.

“Mother says that men like Harry tend to be like that but that they stop once they get married.” She raised the full glass of arbor gold in her hand to her lips and drained the golden liquid in one go. “I suppose she is just saying that because the wedding invitations to hers and Dad’s friends have already been sent out, and there’s no way she would ever let me bear the scandal of pulling out of this arrangement now.”

Jon scoffed; his lips turned down into a frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. If she knew that her daughter was marrying a philanderer, Catelyn would castrate him herself with her bare hands. I don’t think you’re giving your mother enough credit.”

Sansa shrugged her shoulders, a tell that she was veering toward drunkenness herself. “Harry’s a flirt, but he’s not a cheater, Jon. He wouldn’t do that to me,” she said, staring hard at the ground, proving that she didn’t really believe the things she was saying.

“Sansa –“ Jon began, ready to both reprimand and console her, but Sansa held her hand up, begging for him to stop.

“I know you may think I’m weak for saying this, but… I have to choose to see the best in Harry because he’s the best that I’m probably going to find. I just need to do a better job of hiding my insecurities toward him, is all.”

Shaking his head, Jon reached out and grabbed Sansa’s free hand, clutching it tightly in his own. “I don’t care about him, Sansa. I only care about _you_ ,” he declared firmly, squeezing her hand tightly in his own. “The only thing I want is for you to be happy, and if that asshole doesn’t do it for you, then I don’t want you to be with him anymore, let alone marrying him.”

Her eyes started to glisten as she stared first at her hand in his and then lifted her gaze to meet his own. “I wish I was brave enough to fight for happiness, Jon,” she whispered quietly, her words barely audible over the din of the other people in the room. “I’m almost certain I know where I would be able to find it.”

Jon wanted nothing more than to just lean forward and press his lips to hers, but Sansa was already pulling her hand from his as she took a step back away from him. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m made for happiness, and so that means I have to stick with the sure-thing I’ve got.”

A single tear slid from the corner of her eye, down her cheek. She wiped it away swiftly as she forced a smile back onto her lips – the disconnect from her lips and her eyes more evident than ever. She then turned and started heading back to the room.

“Sansa, wait!” Jon called out for her, running to her. He almost feared that she wouldn’t listen, but just as he reached her, she stopped, though she refused to actually look at him. So, instead, he took her hand in his instead.

“You _are_ made for happiness, and when you’re ready to accept that, you know where you can always find me,” he declared, and with that, he slipped the taped-up jewelry box in her hand and closed her fingers over it to secure it against her palm. With it, he hoped that he gave her some of the strength he once possessed.

Sansa’s brow furrowed when she looked down at what he had given her, but Jon couldn’t bear to stay in the same room as that fake smile one minute longer. Releasing her hand, he gave her one last parting smile before turning and finally walking out of the front door, the cold Northern air cooling the tears that were already beginning to fall down his face.

2 Weeks Later

The call came at three in the morning. Jon nearly knocked his cell phone off his nightstand in his blind attempt to shut it up, but sleep had faded enough by the time he actually grabbed a hold of it to prevent him from throwing the phone across the room. With his mind slowly leaving the semi-fogged state, he looked at the caller id to see that it was from Robb. Pressing answer, he raised the phone to his ear with a grumbled hello.

“Jon?” Robb called out, his voice filled with a frenzied panic that snapped Jon the rest of the way out of sleep’s grasp. “Gods, please tell me you’re up! It’s an emergency.”

“Wh-what is it?” Jon questioned, immediately sitting up in his bed, fully awake. “Are the boys okay? Are your parents? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sansa, Jon!” Robb answered, making the blood freeze in Jon’s veins.

“Is she okay? Is she all right? What’s wrong? Where is she?” he demanded frantically as he felt his heart painfully freeze up inside his chest.

Robb didn’t seem to notice that Jon was on the verge of having a panic attack. His response was still desperate for him, but still somewhat subdued compared to how Jon was feeling. “Her fiancé’s dead, Jon. The asshole was getting a blowjob by some bimbo while he was driving around, and he somehow lost control of the car and drove it right off a mountain. Sansa just called me from home after she got the visit from the police.”

Jon’s nerves were somewhat less frazzled with the news that Sansa had been well enough to call Robb, but hearing that her fiancé had died like that only made him irate.

“Sansa’s at their house, but to make matters worse, the asshole filmed himself doing all of that crap just before he died, and somehow the video got posted to all of his social media accounts, so _everyone_ now knows that he’s a dick and that he died being one. If he wasn’t dead already, I would murder him!”

Even though Jon had never liked the bloke, he couldn’t help but feel remorse at the fact that a man had lost his life. It just felt overwhelming that something like that would happen to her when she was so determined to make a go of it with him. Deep down he was relieved that she didn’t have to anymore.

“You’re right, the guy’s a dick, Robb. Still, I’m so sorry to hear that Sansa has to go through all of that,” he said, hoping he sounded the right amount of remorseful and disgust despite the fact that he was overcome with an overpowering sense of relief.

“Yeah, well… Sansa is really shaken up. She’s at the police station, but my parents are flying out right now to go get her… They just want her home, now more than anything. I just needed to talk to someone to keep myself from going crazy thinking about how things have gone for her. She didn’t deserve this.”

Jon stayed on the phone for a few more minutes, soothing his best friend and assuring him that everything would be okay before he had relaxed Robb enough for him to try going back to sleep. After hanging up the phone, however, sleep was the very last thing on _his_ mind. Now, more than ever, he was concerned about Sansa, but also about the events that had led up to her fiancé dying.

Did he have a part to play in it? A niggling thought made itself known in the back of Jon’s mind. His memory flashed back to the box he had placed in Sansa’s hand and the voice he had heard in the back of his head. _She needs me_. Did what he does lead up to this?

As though she had read his mind, despite being hundreds of miles away from him, Sansa’s name appeared on the screen of his phone, though it was a text rather than a phone call. Jon didn’t know why, but his fingers shook as he opened the message, as though he just knew that it was going to shake his entire world up.

_Sansa: I’m sure you’ve heard by now. I guess you not only see everything, but you’re right about everything, too._

**_Jon: I didn’t want to be right like this. I hope you know that. You deserved so much better than Harry. You always did_ **

A couple of minutes passed, though they felt like hours to Jon who wanted some kind of assurance that he didn’t sound like a complete ass to someone who had just lost her fiancé, even though he had died while he was cheating on her. Finally, he received another notification saying he had received another text from her, which he opened eagerly.

**** _Sansa: Arya Underfoot seemed to have agreed with you, Jon._

Frowning, confused, Jon stared at her message for a long moment, trying to grasp what it was she was trying to say.

**_Jon: What exactly does that mean, Sansa?_ **

**** _Sansa: I think you know what I mean already, Jon. Why else would you have given her back to me?_

**_Jon: Are you saying that she… that tonight was because of her?_ **

**** _Sansa: I can’t say for sure… but she did tell me that she didn’t want me to be with Harry. I’m pretty sure she may have made Harry swerve off the road tonight because right before she said she was going to leave me for good, and she told me that I needed to be brave soon. I think with the accident, that’s what she meant._

Before Jon could even fathom how to respond to that, another text notification came in for him to open.

_Sansa: I think I’m ready to be happy now, Jon._

3 Years Later

Jon ran into the hospital with panic etched on his face and anxiety drilling into his heart. A last minute meeting had made him miss the calls from his wife that she had gone into labor and had been rushed to the hospital by her mother. By the time he had gotten out of his meeting, he found out that she had delivered the baby, and they were both healthy.

Walking into the room where his wife and newborn baby were sleeping, Jon went to her bedside and covered his wife’s face in kisses until her eyes fluttered open. He then kissed her lips desperately, both in gratitude for being so strong and bringing their child into the world and for allowing him to be the one to give her the happiness he had once promised her.

“Have you seen the baby yet?” Sansa finally questioned once she managed to push him back enough for her to speak.

Jon shot a furtive glance to the bassinet, his eyes already misting as he reluctantly walked away from his wife to peer at the child that she and he had made. He didn’t stop until he was peering down at the tiny, slumbering form, his vision blurring by the rush of tears that were beginning to build up in his eyes at the mere sight of the precious bundle.

“Congratulations, Daddy, it’s a baby girl,” Sansa cooed from her hospital bed, her own eyes wet as she watched him.

“A girl?” Jon asked as he knelt down to bring his face closer to his daughter’s. “Really?”

Sansa grinned and nodded happily. “She’s practically perfect already, but she has a pair of lungs on her that the nurses say always wakes up the other babies in the nursery, so I just told them to let her stay with me because I don’t mind hearing her voice.”

Jon chuckled and wiped at his eyes before reaching down and gently lifting the small bundle into his arms. The baby gurgled and grumbled a little at being shifted, but she stayed asleep as Jon cradled her in the crook of his arm and pressed a kiss to her brow.

“Did you name her yet?” he asked Sansa as he started to rock his daughter despite her already being asleep.

“I wanted to wait for you to come before I did.”

Jon didn’t want to ever put her down, but it wasn’t long before she woke up crying, ready to be fed and he had to relinquish her to Sansa, though he sat right next to her to watch the baby feed. With her awake, he was able to see more of her features and it was a bit starling to see that she had his eyes and his hair. He was a little disappointed that she didn’t take more after Sansa, but as he looked down at her, he couldn’t help but think that she was still absolutely perfect just the way she was. Also, in addition to the strong resemblance to him, there was something about her that felt oddly… _familiar_ about her.

“Did you have any names picked out that you wanted to name her?” he asked his wife, who was staring lovingly at their daughter as she fed her.

Sansa looked up from the baby for a second to look into his eyes with a shy smile before she hesitantly shook her head ‘no’. But Jon didn’t quite believe her. Still, he felt like there was already a name building up on his tongue, ready for him to just open his lips and speak it aloud.

“What would you say… to calling her _Arya_?”

The relieved sigh that left Sansa’s lips was more than confirmation enough for him that he had made the right choice.

“How did you know I wanted to call her that?” Sansa asked softly as she pulled him down to her so she could kiss him.

Jon shrugged, not sure how he could explain his own strange connection to her strange imaginary friend. “She just _looked_ like an Arya to me, I guess. What about you?”

“Well, Arya Underfoot was already grown when I first saw her, but looking at our Arya…I can’t help but think that they’re going to be identical. Does that make this even weirder for you?”

“Considering the roll she played in getting us together, I’m not sure I can disagree at all, love,” Jon confessed quietly. “All I can say is she’s here with us now, and that’s all that matters. And because we brought her here, together, we’re going to make sure she has the happiest life that we can possibly give her.”

Sansa pulled him down for another kiss, but before Jon could deepen it, Arya finished feeding and was letting the milk drop onto her face. She started to whimper as Sansa gently cleaned her face up and then pressed delicate kisses on her forehead.

“Welcome to the world, Arya Underfoot,” Sansa whispered softly into the baby’s ear, just loud enough for Jon to hear. “You gave me the world, and now I promise I’m going to give the world back to you.”

Jon squeezed both of his girls to him and kissed both of their heads gently before staring at his daughter lovingly. “Welcome home, Arya Stark.”


End file.
